VERSES 



BY 

W. B. COTTON 

INDIAN CIVIL SERVICE 



'^ 



Wait till you come to forty year ! ' ' 

W. M. Thackeray. 



New York 
R. HAROLD PAGET 

1912 



VERSES 



BY 

W. B. COTTON 

INDIAN CIVIL SERVICE 



Wait till you come to forty year ! " 

W. M. Thackkray. 



New York 

R. HAROLD PAGET 

1912 



Tl^ 1 * 




Vh- 



Copyrighted 1(^12 By 
wV B. COTTON 



(g)CU308572 



VERSES 



ON PRESENTING A MATCHBOX TO A LADY 

Madam in your sweet company 

What need have 1 of matches, 

When at one glance from your bright eyes 

My heart on fire catches? 



TO A LADY 

What shall I call you, sweet? 

Blue sky amid gray clouds showing, 
Scent of a rose at eve, 

Cool breath of morning blowing. 

Only to dream of you, sweet. 

In the lonely long night watches! 
In the land of the might have been, 

Where sleeping with waking marches. 

There I may meet you, sweet? 

Forgetting in bliss divine, 
That after -the dream is ended 

I never may call you mine. 



THE BREAK OF THE RAINS 

Not a leaf stirs, the very air doth swoon, 

The melancholy music of the night 

Languishes utterly, the hum of wings, 

Crickets' thin serenade, rustle of creeping things. 

That swell out nature's nocturne. 

In yonder glen, where rocks sleep in the water, 

And feathery bamboos dream their lives away, 

The brindled monarch of the woods, his limbs relaxed, 

Lies panting, eyes half closed. 

The heat grows greater, one by one the stars 

Are blotted from the vaulted arch of heaven. 

From the horizon comes the sullen growl 

Of distant thunder, lightning's sudden gleam 

Maps out the landscape; last, a cool breath. 

The rain. 



RED AND WHITE ROSES 

T walked with my love in a garden of roses, 

Kcd and white roses upon the same tree, 
And thought of my love as I looked at these roses 

Entangled in clusters so charming to see. 
And T knew that these roses must carry some message. 

And long thought in vain about what it might be. 
Till I looked at my live, and I found she was blushing; 

This white rose to others was a red rose to me. 



A BIRD'S SONG 

When the daylight was dying, 
And the sad wind was sighing, 
And the gray clouds were hanging 

Like a pall. 
And the shadows came creeping 
'Neath the trees that were weepinj 
Till darkness descended 

Over all. 
One sweet bird 'gan singing 
With note clear and ringing 
"Soon the night of our sorrow 

Will be done. 
And life's weary tangle 
With joy shall commingle, 
And the dull stream shall sparkle 

In the sun." 



A TRAIN OF THOUGHT 

What is sweeter than the sunlight 

After rain. 
When the birds begin to carol 

Once again. 
And a gentle summer breeze 
Dries the tear-drops on the trees, 
Which in dreamy minor keys 

Do complain? 

What is purer than the moonlight 

On the ground. 
Drawing her pale silver mantle 

All around, 
So doth beauty proud deny 
All response to lover's sigh, 



While the very earth doth lie 
In a swound? 

What is softer than the starlight 

In the hour 
When the lover his fond story 

Doth outpour, 
And the sweet half-hidden face 
From the dark takes heart of grace, 
And the moth receives a kiss 

From the flower? 

AN ANSWER 

What is sweeter than the sunlight? 

Tell me, lover! 
Surely were the daylight 

Gone for ever, 
Thus I would the hours of darkness 

Best beguile. 
In remembering a 

Woman's smile. 

What is purer than the moonlight? 

Why so simple 
Riddles do you ask me. 

When the dimple 
Dancing on the water in her 

Clearest beams 
Is the mirror of a 

Woman's dreams? 

What is softer than the starlight? 

Well, I really 
Cannot but confess I 

Think your early 
Education you neglected 

And surmise, 
Never gazed into a 

Woman's eyes. 

THE LAND OF DREAMS 

As dusk began to fall I rode along. 
While in my mind I roamed sweet thoughts among 
And to the memory of dead heartsease 
Hoof-beats sang sad persistent melodies, 

Which seemed to draw the veil from worlds unseen. 
And to remind me of what might have been, 



Fanning the ashes of a past desire 

Till they once more again burst into fire. 

Once more I heard the voice I loved so well, 

And on my face the rain in kisses fell, 

Soft in the wind I heard my own love sigh. 

In whose sweet company the miles slipped by. 

Surely for this soft bliss I did atone — 
When all the world had held but us alone — 
As in the porch the lantern's fitful gleams 
Ended the journey through the land of dreams. 



AN ALLEGORY 

A moth was flying here and there 

One summer eve, 
And came across a perfume rare 

Which did deceive, 
And perched upon a glass's rim 
Full of sweet poison to the brim, 

And sucked the golden liquor down 

An hour or more, 
And wondered if the world could own 

More bliss in store. 
And just escaped from being drowned 
By falling down upon the ground. 

At dawn the sufferer crawled away 

And went to bed. 
Where in a corner kind it lay 

Its aching head. 
And felt the world go round and round 
While heaving earthquakes shook the ground. 

This harm so worked upon its mood, 

Unhappy moth. 
That until recently its food 

Was scraps of cloth. 
The injured creature did believe 
That every sweet thing did deceive. 

Till wandering by chance through some 

Fair lady's bower, 
The moth's good fortune 'twas to come 

Across a flower, 



Filling the night air with a charm 
That healed the moth of all its harm. 



x\rrested on its onward flight 
When ceased the smart, 

The moth took courage to alight, 
With beating heart. 

And till its little life did close 

Endeavored to be near the rose. 



'Twas thus the hurt inflicted by 

Love's cruelty 
On me, did find a balm in thy 

Kind sympathy, 
And like the moth I long to be 
Still in thy sweet society. 



A SOLILOQUY 

If to love but the vain 
Faint shade of desire 

Is a cause of sweet pain. 
And the ghost of a fire 

The lone heart can burn, 
Then what would it be 
If some pitiful she 

The love would return? 



Some feminine being 
So sweetly responsive 

The mute appeal seeing 
That lies in a plaintive 

But half-expressed verse. 
Might her lot with mine 
Together combine 

For better or worse. 



If better, our days 

We would dreamily pass 

In a soft golden haze, 

Till our sand through the glass 

To the last grain did fall; 
And if worse: then I think 
From that chance I'd not shrink 

To have been loved at all. 



A LOCK OF HAIR 

Sweetheart! One dear lock 
Of that dark hair of thine, 

Like the little green spiral 

That hangs from the vine, 

O'er thy soft brow is straying 

Love's challenge conveying 
So hard to decline. 

For your heart, like that plant, 
Round mine doth entwine 

In a clinging caress. 

And your looks are a wine, 

To whose thoughtless assailing, 

My strength unavailing. 
Myself I resign. 

Should a wanton lip taste 

First the red, then the white — 

Nay, bind it not up, 

Nor a fond lover's plight, 

By mock anger feigning 

Or cruel disdaining, 

Make desolate quite. 

And let one swift glance 

From those twin suns so bright 
Heal the wound you inflicted. 

While Fancy, her flight 
Your lashes down-falling 
Will aid, in recalling 

The sweet hours of night. 

TO A LADY 

T thank thee, for that thou hast let me know 

A woman's mind, 
When else it had been my hard fate to go 

For ever blind 
To much that most men see and yet can pass 

Unwittingly, 
So thy dear virtues may I but rehearse 

Befittingly. 

And in the telling, if the careful tale 

Fall any short, 
Or if the halting words should sometimes fail 

To match the thought, 

8 



Accepting the intention for the deed, 

Forgive it me, 
Whose only claim to goodness is the need 

To worship thee. 

For truly 1 do think that thou couldst nought 

Of evil know. 
But that when any shape of sin unsought 

Itself did show 
Some sul)tle woman's instinct warned thee still 

To pass it by. 
Nor with half-guessed-at harmful sights to fill 

A curious eye. 

Also the chiefest source of all thy joy 

Is others' good, 
In that no baser thoughts of self alloy 

Thy radiant mood, 
Wherefore approving angels have thee crowned 

With happiness, 
Seeing a beinf from their sphere has found 

A home on this. 

Thou couldst untroubled never stand and view 

Another's pain. 
But must at once thy constant aim pursue 

To heal again. 
Forgetting that perchance thine eyes may loose 

Don Cupid's dart. 
And, healing one wound, to the patient cause 

More lasting smart. 

And now from fear lest I should be accused 

Of flattery. 
A single failing should I be excused 

If I copy? 
That never woman was, I greatly fear. 

Created 3^et 
With like facility a tale could hear 

And then forget. 

THE COMING OF SLEEP 

'Tis when the crowd of sweet tumultuous thoughts 
Do mingle in the semblance of a dream 
That kindly fairy-land doth ope its ports 
To weary drifters on life's busy stream. 

Amid a host of fond imagined things 
The shadowy soul has liberty to roam, 



And gather honey without fear of stings, 
For never angry bee doth guard the comb. 

No bitter memories nor vain regrets 
Can live in that exalted atmosphere, 
Where self its own identity forgets, 
And past and future both do disappear. 

In that far country one may pluck a rose, 
And on one's breast ma^'- dare to wear the same 
And never fear the morrow shall disclose 
The flower has been converted to a flame. 

And if some love-sick swain should there elect 
To worship at the shrine of beauty fair, 
He will not find her ready to accept 
The incense and reject the worshipper. 

But ever passion meets with tenderness 
And soft response from mute expressive eyes, 
So soon down-dropped to veil their happiness 
If the fond tyrant all too closely pries. 

And long before love dies of weariness 
Slumber assails the dreamer drowsily, 
Locked in the arms of sweet forgetfulness, 
Time for a while for him doth cease to be. 



A LOVER'S COMPLAINT 

Now listen, lady fair, to me 
Poor victim of love's strategy, 

How craftily 
The wanton little archer blind 
Did with your eyes the target find, 

And wounded me. 

Long time a sufiferer at his hands, 
I bound my heart in iron bands 

So carefully. 
And locked it with a cunning key, 
Forged in the fires of memory 

That burned in me. 

A moment's respite did I seize, . 
The tyrant left me to my ease 
Deceitfully. 

10 



Then with what charming sorcery, 
What sweet thief was it that stole the key? 
Ah! Whisper me! 

And w^as my late misdeed so plain," 
That he should torture me again 

So shamefully? 
That, save by stretch of phantasie, 
He should arrange that you and 1 

Could ne'er be we. 

WOMAN 

For answer doth appeal 

The riddle woman, 
The half-evolved ideal, 
Whose aim is to conceal 
Desires that men reveal, 
Who reason less than feel. 

Akin to no man. 

Each charming quality 

Is there depicted 
In possibilitv. 
Their readv sympathy 
Can with each mood agree, 
Till man's brutality 

Its growth has stunted. 

Then the perverted she 

May seek his hindrance 

Exploit with subtlety 

His vein of cruelty. 

Corrupt his honesty. 

Till in catastrophe 

She find her vengeance. 

Yet the majority 

Their weary burden 
Do bear resignedly 
With standfast loyalty, 
All uncomplainingly. 
And fond maternity 

Becomes their guerdon. 

But when like natures bind 

A sweet alliance. 
Alone doth womankind 

11 



Her true perfection find, 
When lives are intertwined, 
And both attune their mind 
To glad compliance. 

'Tis then alone we see 
The perfect woman, 

The surest guarantee 

Of immortality, 

With just a touch, maybe. 

Of human frailtv 

To hang- our love on. 

FAREWELL 

Dear Heart! was it a crime 

That I loved thee. 
When love's sweet summer-time 

Could never be. 
But save awakening 
Of winter into spring. 
Thou further couldst not bring 

Life's joy to me. 

And if a crime it was, 

Great punishment 
Do I deserve, because 

My love I lent 
Without security 
It e'er repaid to see? 

Yet how so great it be 

Would I repent.'' 

For is it a surprise 

That fire should burn? 
What lover love denies 

Without return, 
But cowardly doth shrink 
The thought of self to sink, 
The truest love I think 

Can never learn. 

And yet 'tis very hard 

To bear my lot. 
And for a parting word 

So soon forgot 
When thou shalt go away 
For ever and a day. 
To only dare to say 

Forget me not. 

12 



A LOVER'S DIARY 

At 6 a. m. I woke and thought of thee, 

And vowed my love for thee should be eternal, 

Supreme, illimitable as the sea, 

Yet with reproach I greeted my mfernal 

Knit, who was late in bringinp- me my tea. 

All through my morning ride how best to move 
Thee wondered, until my exultant pack, all 
Yelping at once, from a sequestered grove 
Moved an affrighted and reluctant jackal, 
And so compelled me to forget my love. 

Ail day I dreamt how sweet to have a wife. 
And watched the alband in the slippery shoe 
Insert the devious nail misuse the knife, 
Until my chestnut stepped upon my toe. 
And gave a further interest to life. 

'Tis after dark my spirits most do droop 
And doul)t will fate allow my lot to link 
With thine, or whether thou to mine wilt stoop, 
Whence my despair, but still I always think 
I feel a little better after soup. 

And so the weary day, till sleep relief 
x^ffords, for ever doth a rod in pickle 
Hang over me, of all mine ease the thief. 
For I have heard that women are so fickle. 
Which is the constant cause of all my grief. 

LOVE'S GARDEN 

How best recall my absent love to me. 
Kind Flora, prithee, lend to me thine aid. 
And in each flower my sweetheart I shall see. 
More slender than the wood anemone. 
Like springs of halfyforgotten rosemary 
In my mind's book in recollection laid 
Her waist is like the leaning hyacinth, 
Her breath the sweet oppression of the rose 
Passing o'er rows of snowdrops white as milk. 
While twin carnations add a taste of cloves. 
And love entangled in the labyrinth 
Upon these flowers contented doth repose. 
Her little veins like violets do hide 
Abashed beneath the lily's snowy pride 
Her tiny ears are rosy orchids rare 
SusDcnded in the meshes of her hair 
And much unpardonable larceny 
Would I commit could I become a bee. 

13 



AFTER THE HONEYMOON 

Na}^! blame me not, sweet, 

Nor say that I let 
Life's burden and heat 

Cause me to forget 
The vows that I made, 
While yet is unpaid 

The half of love's debt. 

The stars disappear 

On seeing the light, 
Yet ever are there 

Though hidden from sight, 
So my love for thee 
Concealed may be, 

Fair queen of the night! 

THE RISING MOON 

The moon rose like a little boat 
In which my love with me did float 

So silently 
Uron an undiscovered sea 
Where never mortal else than we 

Might ever be. 
Amid the mazes of the stars 
We two deserted wanderers 

Our course did steer 
By the pole-start of Constancy, 
Which taught us both our path to see. 

And never veer. 

When to the star of love we came 

My love's lips softly breathed the name 

Fidelity. 
As the night air the whisper bore 
No duty found I e'er before 

So sweet to me. 

And when another star drew near 
I named it, so my love should hear. 

Sincerity, 
That never shade of reticence 
Should cloud the perfect confidence 

'Twixt her and me. 

Yet all too soon to dream was gone 
For, creeping with the jealous dawn, 

Reality 
Reminded me the voyage begun 
Ended e'er rising of the sun 

Must ever be. 

14 



MEMORY 

Since fate decreed that thou and I must part, 
And never love's sweet plant a blossom show, 
But only stamped thine image on -my heart 
Its sovereign for ever it should know. 

Remembering the bliss of loving thee, 
Of looking for an answer in thine eves. 
Although I knew the dream must ended be, 
The only prize the striving for the prize. 

What matter when the sweet of love is gone, 
If betterness remaineth at the last! 
Shall I my squandered store too late bemoan? 
Had ever love a future or a past? 

THE ROSEBUD 

A rosebud proclaimed 

That the store of its sweets 
Should be unprofaned. 
And never disdained 

The wandering air. 
Or though that it harmed. 
Till the pitiless fair 

Grew a rose unaware, 
Whose neighbourhood charmed 

Whoever drew near. 



A SATIRE 

A woman, to enslave, 

And hold a heart in thrall, 

However much she gave. 
Should never render ,all. 

But ever a new charm 

Suggest a something more. 

Till careless of all harm. 
Her victim doth explore. 

To find her every thought 

Unconscious poetry. 
And dream that he has caught 

A woman's mystery. 

And never doth suspect 

The knowledge dearly bought, 

15 



Till he too late reflect 

'Tis he that has been caught, 

When strange though it appears, 

He cherishes his pain, 
And onl - this he fears 

To be let loose again. 

VENUS VICTRIX 

Have you seen a woman's eyes 

When the night 
Shows the depth where hidden lies 

Love's delight, 
How the soul is unafraid, 
And the deepening of the .shade 
Brings the fires which ever played 

Into sight? 

Never shone the evening star 

Half so soft. 
Did it climb up ne'er so far, 

Hio-ht aloft. 
As these lights whose constant glow 
Answers yes unto the foe. 
Though the tongue should murmur no 

Ne'er so oft. 

Have 5^ou seen a woman's lips 

When their hue 
Red of rubies doth eclipse, 

And the two 
Pressed so lightly seem to close 
Like the petals of a rose 
Which the night air did expose 

To the dew? 

Though her thought she fain would crush 

Ne'er so well, 
On her cheek a carmine flush 

Seems to tell 
Of love's sacred mysteries, 
And doth shade in slow degrees 
To the tender pink one sees 

In a shell. 

While her form so seeming frail 

Doth recline. 
As upon a bush doth trail 

Columbine, 

16 



While of love she mocks the birth, 
Half in pity, half in mirth, 
Like a being half of earth, 
Half divine. 

A GLANCE 

As mirrored on the margin of a pool 

The shadows play 
Of weeping willows hiding in the cool 

Before the day. 
Upon her cheek in curves that love did rule 

The lashes lav. 

As when the summer zephyrs that arise 

The waters stir 
Suarkling, the shadow that around it lies 

Both disappear 
So lifting, love's sweet lightning in her eyes 

Flashed forth more clear. 

TO CIRCE 

When those black eyes upon me fell, 
And on me straightway cast a spell 

That set my heart a-throbbing, 
Their glances sweetly mischievous 
Said if you'll only harbour us 

Your rest we'll soon be robbing. 

No sleep shall visit you at all 

When once beneath my charm you fall, 

But only fairy copies 
Of my bright face shall haunt you there, 
Until your lips shall everywhere 

Seem brushed by wanton poppies. 

And when you want you know not what, 
Whate'er you feel, forget it not. 

And from the pain no shirking, 
That it was ever nature's plan 
To turn a brute into a man. 

By that same charm that's working. 

A PROTEST 

If only those who seek to bind 
The workings of a poet's mind 

Would let him be, 
Nor with a vile construction soil 

17 



The product of his lonely toil 

Through jealousy, 
Believe his vain imaginings 
Creations where the spirit wings 

Its flight alone, 
Nor envy him if unrepaid, 
A fond flirtation with a shade 

He carries on, 
Bee"uiling the unbidden guest 
Who wantonly doth mock his rest. 

With flattery. 
While he against the sweet attack 
Unweaponed may in haste ransack 

Love's armoury: 
Then what a host of pretty things 
One whispers oftener than sings 

Might soon be said. 
Which now, for fear of others' mock, 
The dreamer is compelled to lock 

Within his head! 



BITTER-SWEET 

The fire that lies in woman's eyes 

And tells of love awoken. 
The unconscious sighs, the fond surmise, 

The word that's never spoken, 

The purpose chance, the meaning glance. 
That sets the brain a-glowing 

While pulses dance, is beauty's lance, 
To all the gauntlet throwing. 



The tender phase, th' averted gaze. 
The eyes so shy of meeting. 

She next displays, but ever lays 
An ambush in retreating, 

Her recreant swain to call again, 
And all lost ground recover, 

She turns again, and mocks his pain. 
And calls another lover, 

Till he shall learn the jealous burn 
Of watching envious doveing. 

And doth return again to earn 
The bitter-sweet of loving. 



18 



A LOVER'S COMPLAINT 

Sweet! when I drank dear poison at thine eyes, 

Whose fire has fanned 
And fed the lingering fever that defies 

Time's healing hand, 
The love that craves and never satisfies 

Whate'er it planned. 

Sweet! did you know the heritage of pain 

You left to me, 
The glory that can never come again 

Bereft from me. 
The fondest dream that man could dream in vain 

Vouchsafed to me.^ 

Sweet! was the easy victory you won 

So dear to thee? 
Sweet! did you know a man could have but one 

Divinity? 
Sweet! do you know you left my world undone 

In wounding me? 

AN ENTREATY 

Sweetheart, why so proud? 
Ne'er so white the cloud. 
Ne'er so soft the flush 
In the sunset glow. 
As thy cheek of snow 
Mantling in a blush. 

Hair as dark as niorht 
And as soft* and light 
As the airs that blow. 
And the stars more bright 
Sparkle in delight 
When thy dark eyes glow. 

Neck and throat divine 
Droopinp- like the pine 
'Neath its weight of snow, 
Lips in their repose. 
Envy of the rose, 
Soft as Cui)id's bow. 

Voice as sweet and low 
As a streamlet's flow 
Where the waters' dance 
Seems to say aloud 
"Sweetheart, why so proud, 
Sweetheart, but a glance." 

19 



LIBERTY 

How shall a strayed heart pass away 
A melancholy holiday 

Now love is dead? 
A victim freed from slavery 
Defying in his liberty 

A tyrant sped! 

'Tis as a day when, spent the gale. 
And not a breath to swell the sail, 

The banks slide past, 
While down the stream the eddies churn, 
And sometimes bow and sometimes stern 

Doth travel first. 

Ah! would some charming creature deign, 
To swell the sail of love again, 
I'd steer the course; 

Should the sweet tyrant with her eyes 

Unload the cargo of my sighs, 
Vd bear the loss. 

A DREAM 

A wisp of cloud, half drawn athwart the moon, 
A sigh of leaves soft stirring in the night. 

The hot, faint scent of heather bells at noon. 
The throb of water falling far from sight, 

A water-lily sleeping till it soon 

Shall stir, and turn, and open in delight. 

A TEAR 

A lady's eyes where soft delight 
Now shy sparkled into sight. 

Now stole awhile away. 
Like lightning on a summer night. 
First showed my heart the path aright, 

Then left it all astray. 

To chase a phantom hapoiness, 
And dream a soft surrendered kiss 

The sweeter for delay 
When the first moment of our bliss 
Should fill up all the emptiness 

For ever and a day. 
Till, chancing to look up again, 
I saw their light was dim with pain 

And tender sympathy. 
Forgive me, sweet, if I profane 
Your thought and say that you did deign 

Perchance to pity me. 

20 



THE COTILLON 

As butterflies, 'neath summer skies, 

Go dancing o'er the clover, 
Or for a prize where honey lies 

May for an instant hover. 

Now here and there, now everywhere, 
The radiant host doth glitter, 

Each loiterer a glance doth stir. 
To straightway onward flitter. 

With colours bright to mock the sight. 
With coy advance enrapture. 

And still delight to take their flight 
When on the eve of capture. 

TO A LADY 

To try my love in fancy to portray 
Then paint the blush of dawn in disarray 
When sunrise wakes her dreaming of the day. 

A zephyr stirring on a summer night 

Her breath might rival, when with shy delight 

It roused the flowers with kisses in affright. 

And her soft eyes, my joy and my despair, 
Where in the sweet disorder of her hair 
Lies beauty's self enmeshed, are a pair 

Of purole edged convolvuli, which cling- 
So timidly, till the o'ershadowing 
Fringes of night have veiled their shimmering. 

A REPROACH 

Sweetheart, in yonder eyes 
Think how a captive lies 

Bound and forgotten! 
Or "neath those crystal spheres 
Were love's sweet hopes and fears 

Never begotten? 

Never in solitude . 

Did there a thought intrude 

Into the muster 
Of a life's history 
Lightning the mvsterv 

Up with love's lustre? 

Euried within the mine 
Many a gem divine. 
Wasted and darkling. 

21 



Might to love's firmament 
Have a new planet lent, 
Rising and sparkling. 

Close musi the prison be 
Guarding the soul of thee 

Safe from disaster, 
Or doth a vacant hall 
Harbour no guest at all 

Welcome no master? 



AN ENTREATY 

I know not if there be 
Use in entreating thee, 

Sweetheart of mine, 
But not a thought of thee 
Even in scorn of me 

Would I resign. 

Dark though the vault of blue 
Yet the stars peeping through 

Tell of the light, 
Sending a hope to me 
Absent and far from thee 

Here in the night. 

There in the distant skies 
Beauty eclipsed lies 

As in a dream. 
Yet from her half-closed lids 
Just one soft ray she bids 

Tenderly beam, 

Bidding her worshipper 
Lose not all hope of her. 

Until the dawn. 
Closing the mockery 
In cold reality, 

Finds me forlorn. 

A MESSAGE 

Udou a wintry, leafless bower 

There hung a pale, proud passion flow^er, 

Its purple blossoms clinging 
In clusters to the dreary home 
Where this dear plant had chanced to roam, 

Its joy and fragrance bringing. 

22 



A desolate forgotten place 

This sweetest Hower had deigned to grace, 

Its slender tendrils twining 
About the long neglected spot, 
As if to mitigate its lot 

And soothe its sad repining. 

Where all was drear and sorrowing 
It brought a message of the spring 

This queen of all the garden, 
Awakening the wilderness 
To memories of happiness, 

Despair to hope of pardon. 

THE SNOWS 

Long hath the "osy flush upon the snow 

Departed with the sunset's afterglow. 

And the long day is but a memory 

Where love and sorrow mingle, and the pain 

And joy alike are hushed in sleep again, 

With nature singing them a lullaby, 

And still the shadows deepen, as the night 
Would closer veil her secrets from the sight 
Of the too curious stars and hide away 
A something which men worship, as a dream 
Which the fond worshipper would surely deem 
Too sacred for the light of common day. 

Till o'er the mountain tops the moon doth ris 
And shed a gentle radiance o'er the skies. 
When the lone watcher now may deem he see. 
Where'er a range of snowy peaks doth rear 
Its summit in the clear, cold atmosphere, 
Beauty with honour in her company. 

A SNARE 

My sweetheart's hair lay tangled in a net. 
Spun by a cupid out of idlness. 
To make a prisoner in wantonness. 
And 'neath the gossamer a snare to set. 

So craftily the stratagem was laid 
That every straying lock seemed unconfined. 
And unrebukcd to dally with the wind. 
That constantly a sweet disorder made. 

As Dlaying hide and seek among the light 
And shadow of her softly swelling curves. 

23 



And kissing all the flowers in love's preserves. 
Before it murmured them a fond goodnight, 

Leaving the air with softest whispers rife, 
The inconstant wanderer would take his flight, 
Lost in the meshes of his late delight 
The zephyr is a prisoner for life. 

TO ROSALIND 

What recollection of delight 
To every separate charm indict 
That capture held my raptured sight 
In looking on fair Rosalind. 

As flashes through the sunlit air 
The blue wing of a kingfisher 
And vanishes as soon as there 
So shines a glance of Rosalind. 

When in the west the daylight dies 
The dusk broods o'er the starry skies. 
So shadowing her radiant eyes 
Lies the dark hair of Rosalind. 

A mossrose bursting on the air 
Was erstwhile held a prisoner 
Till 'scaped the tangles of her hair 
The ear of lovely Rosalind. 

And only one thing I deplore, 
A fault that often vexed me sore, 
No lady in the world before 
Was half so cross as Rosalind. 

FOR AN ALBUM. 

My lady keeps an album where her friends 
Display their skill in rhyming me with thee, 
And call upon some fascinating she, 
In a duet of most unhappy lovers, 
No more to tortue some devoted he, 
With other daring flights of phantasy 
Around Parnassus, ere the poem ends. 
And we can only hope the swain recovers. 

She wants a contri1)ution to this pile 
Of human documents, reminds me twice 
Of my neglect, threatens me with the price 
Of friendship lost or set at least in danger 
Of being lost, unless in half a trice 

24 



I write some verses. Follows my advice 

To this fair lady, in didactic style, 

To which perchance her album is a stranger. 

Madam! a fixed unalterable law 

For your consideration I perpend. 

Should you your most profound attention lend 

The reason of this law you will discover. 

Your mind will to a like conclusion tend, 

That any verses written to a friend 

Must prove a most unmitigated bore. 

To write a poem one must be a lover. 

THE HAPPY LOVER. 

And English jflower transplanted 
My love to me was granted. 

To rest mine eyes 

'Neath alien skies 
Upon a land enchanted, 

Where in the soft spring weather 
Sweet hyacinths together 

Do seek the lip^ht 

Or hide from sight, 
A straying glance to tether 

That all too soon discloses 
The secret of the posies, 

That love, they say. 

Should wear some day 
The blush of the wild roses; 

But in that gentle Maying 
The flowerets were saying 

How love was dight 

In snowv white 
The lily pure portraying. 

TO HIS MISTRESS. 

Nav! harbour not a f^xed intent 
To punish me with banishment 
.Nor quench a ray of sunlight sent 

To pierce a prison wall. 
And aid a soul that captive lies 
A fairy ladder to devise 
Where fancy may attain the skies 

And drop her fetters all, 

25 



And in the regions of the air 
The erstwhile mournful prisoner 
That happiness may hope to share 

The common right of all, 
When love the tyrant spreads his win- 
And beautv sheds on common things, 
And nature's silent music sings 

Of Eden ere the Fall. 

Till jealousy the dusk creeps down 
And dims the lustre of love's crown; 
Once more the nrison walls do frown 

And solitude again 
Asserts his wonted mastery. 
With the poor lamp of memory 
Alone to pierce the gloom for me 

And light his weary reign. 

ON GUARD. 

When love the tyrant whispers low 
Howe'er so sweet the pulse's flow, 
The wounded heart still fears a foe 
And cries. Halt! who goes there.'' 

Friend! but erstwhile in such disguise. 
Beneath the very sentry's eyes, 
A foe hath entered paradise 
And robbed the treasure there. 



So howso great the charm that lies 
And sparkles in a woman's eyes. 
The wounded heart forever cries 
Halt! friend, the countersign! 

It nevermore its watch abates, 

But bars the passage through its gates, 

And for the answer lonely waits 

To say. Pass friend! all's well! 

THE SENTENCE. 

A vagrant zephyr erstwhile robbed the rose. 
In fact he stole her perfume with his breath, 

She to the court her story did disclose 
And for his felony, the story saith 

This sentence on the zephyr they impose: 
To wander evermore on pain of death. 

26 



Sighing- the zephyr softly stole away, 
Bearing along the odour of the rose, 

A silent witness of its larceny, 
Eternally to banish its repose, 

Till glittering o'er the dying light of. day 
Above the trees a crescent moon arose. 

As through the dark a ray of moonlight fell, 
A snowy slender aloe shaft did loom, 

Which bending softly shook each fairy bell 
In laughter, as it floated in the gloom. 

And guided by this charming sentinel. 
The lonely wanderer forgot his doom. 

And passed into a garden of delight 

Of waving palms and trailing aspen trees 

Which softly whispered in the air of night. 
Awoken by the stirring of the breeze, 

And gently bade the zephyr stay his flight 
To pause awhile and dream the night at ease. 

'Mid slumbering bees and moonlight over all 
The zephyr died among the sleeping flowers; 

No sorceress, I ween, did ever call 

More willing captive to her scented bowers, 

To dare whatever fortune may befall, 

In hope to gain a few brief happy hours. 

THE GIPSY MAID. 

Among the beauties of the town 
There is a maid with tresses brown 
Which hangs in sweet disorder down. 
So soft and dark and straying. 

Love's finger jjrint must surely be 
W^here, slender as anemone. 
Her rosy nape unveiled -"^ou see, 
The traitor hairs displaying. 

Her lily cheeks the sun has kissed 
Till love lies hid within a mist 
GALLEY EIGHT 

Of gold, until the rogue doth list 
To send her thoughts astraying. 

And then the roses hide the white 
And gold alike; a pretty sight 
To see the beauty's cheeks alight, 
Were love but gone a-maying. 

27 



'Neath lashes black the gipsy tries 
To veil the glances of her eyes, 
Where plain to view the laughter lies 
At all this swain is saying. 

WINDERMERE 

The slender silver birches sway 

Their tender green where zephyjs play 

At hide and seek ere break of day 

Whilst still the stars are peeping, 
Ere yet the skylark's melody 
Has broken on night's nivstery, 
And half the world lies shadowy 

And all the world lies sleeping. 

The rowans climb the mountain side, 
Their clusters flinging far and wide, 
Like beauty's lips all scarlet dyed 

When love, the tyrant, taking 
A woman with his witchery, 
Has left her in a reverie 
Where nature seeks a harmony 

With never an awaking. 

No sound but water murmuring; 
To every slope the fir trees cling 
Till every zephyr wandering 

Can added sweetness borrow; 
Around the lake a shadow lies 
Like fringed lids of beauty's eyes 
Ere daylight floods the morning skies 

And brings another morrow. 



2S 



rtB 28 1312 



One copy del. to Cat. Div. 



620 1 • 




